Only You
by b-mystique
Summary: He didn't hear anything beyond Jessica…hospital…and incident, before he dashed out of his penthouse."Where the hell is my friend?" Jessica was the closest thing he had to a constant in his life. He knew he took her for granted, but if he woke up one day and she wasn't in his life, he's not sure who he'd be anymore. Angsty/fluff Jarvey friendship.


**A/N:** Sorry guys, I feel like my Jarvey writing has been sucking. Plus I miss seeing their relationship explored more onscreen. Honest reviews are welcome. Or not. It's okay either way.

 **Disclaimer:** I just want to own half of Jessica Pearson's wardrobe. No? Harvey's affection? No? Can Gretchen be my person? No? Fine. I own nothing.

~o~

The hospital was bustling for it to be two in the morning. At least a dozen patients in various states of agony sat in the waiting room gripping the arm rests of chairs and struggling to fill out paperwork as they waited to be seen. Further down Harvey watched a woman fall to her knees in tears, still gripping the edges of the doctor's coat, as he clearly delivered devastating news. Harvey's blood boiled. Surely there was a more secluded spot for news like that to be delivered. He banged his hand on the desk of reception area for what seemed like the fifteenth time.

"Where the hell is Jessica Pearson?" he all but growled. His dark eyes like daggers shooting at the thin woman behind the station with a pixie cut, and blank expression. Once again, she was unfazed. So much so that she seemed to be ignoring him altogether.

"Sir-"she began in a bored tone.

"I've been waiting for information for forty-five minutes!" He hissed. He leaned forward until his face was within her line of sight and raised his brow expectantly.

"Sir," she started through a forced smile that was more of a grimace. "You've been here for ten minutes. Unless you're fa-"

"I. Am. Family." he growled. His death glare could only be rivaled by Hades himself. He didn't need an expensive suit to be intimidating. He could pull off the feat just fine, in flannel pajama pants a worn Henley with a hole in it, and a grey hoodie.

When he first got the call he ignored it. He was too tired and had just crashed into bed, and anything that called for him to venture out into the world or be functional at two in the morning when he had pulled an all-nighter three nights in a row was not worth it. It couldn't be. When his phone rang again he fought the urge to fling the offensive device across the room. By the third time he surrendered to the fact that something was serious enough to require three phone calls. He didn't hear anything beyond _Jessica_ … _hospital_ …and _incident_ , before he dashed out of his penthouse so fast he may have put the flash to shame. His heart was still pounding after the sprint he made to the hospital after his cab driver got stuck in gridlock.

"Sir, again, I'm going to ask that you sit down and someone will be with you shortly to discuss the condition of Jennifer."

" _Jessica_ ," he bit out forcefully. A crazed glint flashed in his eye, as he contemplated the legal ramifications he would face if he literally strangled the woman in the hospital. He never laid hands on a woman in his life, never planned to, would kill a man who ever did, but the urge to shake the woman until some sense came to her was strong. "If you don't tell me," he started through gritted teeth as he tried to keep anxiety at bay. "Where the _fuck_ my friend is… I swear to God, I will rein legal brimstone on you so fast your elfish little head will spin!"

"Is there a problem?" an older woman who looked vaguely familiar asked the pixie haired woman at the desk. She glanced up at Harvey. "Mr. Specter? What…Jesus, Deb, he's here for Jessica Pearson. You're the one who called him for heaven's sake. He's her emergency contact!"

"Mr. Specter, I'm sorry, she's new." Harvey's eye twitched as he bit back his next scathing comment. He didn't give a shit about Tinkerbelle or whether or not she was new. "Celeste, it is Celeste isn't it? I just want to-"

"Ms. Pearson came in about two hours ago. She was in an accident. Nothing serious. Fairly minor. When she came in she was not responsive and therefore we contacted you. She-"

"What room?" He interrupted. He didn't really need to hear all the jargon. He couldn't really process anything until he saw her face. Until he knew she was really okay. He was never a fan of hospitals. They reminded him too much of his father.

"214," she called after him as he already made the dash down the hall.

~o~

She seemed so small sitting in the hospital bed. Her skin looked pale under the harsh fluorescent lights of the room. She was propped up in bed, and even though she was beaten and battered, she still sat in that refined and regal way that he loved. The machines beeping were a comfort. Everything appeared to be normal, with the exception of that faraway, glazed over look in her eye. Her smooth skin, usually free of anything that resembled a blemish, was marred with a few cuts, and discoloration from the bruises starting to form. Her lip was split, and she winced every time she shifted.

He walked towards her slowly, sat down quietly in the seat by her bed and heaved a sigh of relief into his hands. He dragged his blunt fingernails down his face, rubbing up and down over the stubble, before pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. The pressure relieved the headache that was forming and prevented frustrated and admittedly scared tears from falling.

"Ha-Harvey," she croaked. Jessica's voice cracked as she rubbed at her throat.

He jumped up so quickly the chair nearly fell over backwards, and Jessica managed a chuckle that made her wince in pain. He poured her a glass of water, and guided a straw to her lips, his hand resting on the pillow above her head as she drank. Moments later she fell back into the pillow, her hair brushing against his hand, and she sighed.

"Thanks." Her dark eyes met his, and he never saw her look so soft and vulnerable, and dare he even think it but childlike. She was so open, more than he'd ever known her to be, and the thought of that frightened him. It made him feel uncomfortable, because it was like encroaching on a moment of vulnerability that she wouldn't want anyone else to see.

He didn't care. He let out a shaky breath of relief that undoubtedly fanned across her face given their close proximity. Whether it was the fear, the concern, or the helplessness in them both, he didn't know, but he cast his reservations about physical contact aside, and stroked her hair. The pad of his thumb running across her hairline, so as not to accidentally touch any of the other parts of her face mottled with bruises and cuts.

"Harvey," she started again. This time her voice was clearer. It sounded like her but then it didn't. She sounded worn, defeated, and scared. The last thought was enough to break him. He never quite thought of his fearless leader and friend as someone capable of being afraid. He knew how absurd it was but it was so much easier if he just thought of her as invincible. If she was invincible, nothing could ever happen to her. If she was invincible then he didn't have to worry about her or the harm that he sometimes caused to her. If he had to think of her as every bit as human as everyone else, then he'd be forced to think about the things he did to her, or said to her, the way he treated her. He didn't want to have to think about that.

"You scared the shit out of me." He whispered softly.

He wanted to go for a joke. He wanted to make it as light as possible. He wanted to do their usual thing where even at the most serious of times, the most intense, they could crack jokes and lighten the mood and the room around them didn't have to feel as though it were closing in, but he was too tired. He was too tired to do it, and too afraid to not be honest. Plus there was something about the look in her eye. The raw fear and sadness. It was breathtaking, and something told him that dismissing that, dismissing her rare display of emotions wouldn't be best at the moment. She was fragile in a way that he had never known her to be and he didn't want to cause her to shut down or shut him out, even though he could tell she was already starting to. He steadied his breath as he resigned himself to meeting her halfway. Their relationship was always one of equality. A true partnership, and if she was going to be at her most emotionally raw, he didn't want to make her go through it alone.

"Don't ever do that to me again." He pressed a gentle kiss against her hairline and slowly sat down in the chair. His hand slipped into hers and he traced small circles into her soft skin.

She pulled away. "Why are you here?"

"Why would you even ask me that?" he slipped his hand in hers again, this time tightening the grip when she tried to remove hers. She may not have thought she needed the contact but he did. The physical contact was reassuring. It was enough to remind him that she was in fact still there.

"You can go home, Harvey." She whispered quietly. Her bright almond shaped eyes refused to meet his. "You don't have to stay here. You didn't have to come."

"Like hell I didn't have to come!" His voice rose, but then he lowered it when he noticed the increase of her blood pressure on the monitor. "Jess, what happened?"

"I was out. I called a driver. We got in a car accident. I took the hit the hardest and they brought us here. My face is a little bruised up from the impact and the glass. I have a couple of bruised ribs. Possibly a concussion. Other than that I'm fine. I'll be fine, Harvey. You can go home. Get some sleep." She turned her head away, but not enough to hide the glassy sheen to her eyes.

"Where the hell is the driver?" he all but growled. His patience was waning and the obvious pain that his friend was in was enough to break him in two.

"I sent him home," she shrugged and then winced. "He wasn't as beat up as me."

"And he went?!" he tried to keep his outrage tampered down, but Jessica knew him too well. She instinctively squeezed his hand.

"I sent him away, Harvey. Of course he went."

"I don't give a shit if you paid him a grand and sent him to the goddamn moon! He never should have left." His fist clenched as he thought about the pounding he'd love to give the driver. Apparently he was particularly violent minded in the wee hours of the morning, especially when it came to the people he cared about.

"I'm sorry…" Jessica paused to clear her throat. "I'm sorry that you had to rush down here." She gave him a once over from head to toe and it brought a tiny smile to her lips. His hair was in complete disarray. The hoodie he was wearing was stretched at the collar, and she could see the hole in his t-shirt beneath it. He had on loose pajama pants, and mismatched shoes that he didn't bother to tie. He looked young and boyish, and nothing like the refined corporate shark. He was fit for Teen Beat rather than GQ.

"Jess, they would have to drag me out of this room kicking and screaming," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere. I don't care what you say. And after the hell I raised in there with those incompetent nimrods they wouldn't dare step foot in here let alone say a single thing to me. They told me…I thought…I thought you were…" his voice gave out on him and he couldn't bear to say the word out loud. He couldn't. He squeezed her hand, and used his other to brush hair away from her face. He wet his lips, cleared his throat, and tried not to think about the brief moments before when he was lead to believe that his friend didn't make it.

"There was a fatality and…" he started again, over the lump in his throat. Suddenly he needed his own drink. He refilled her cup and took a large gulp. "I'm not going anywhere."

"The man who hit us," she whispered. "He was inebriated from what I gather, but he took a hard hit, and had a heart attack on the table. They couldn't revive him. He had a wife, and kids and…" she sniffled, and he felt his heart drop when he noticed that she was the closest to crying as he'd ever seen her in all the years that he knew her.

Something flashed in her eyes and the hair on the back of his neck rose as it hit him what was troubling her. "Jessi ca, don't you dare…"

"He died, Harvey. He had a wife and kids. He had a family. I…I don't have anyone. I'm grateful, and I feel horrible for feeling grateful, but what a cruel fate that a person who has so many people who need him and love him and rely on him is taken over someone who doesn't have that. I don't have anyone."

"You have me," he said forcefully. He squeezed her hand. "Don't you ever…don't you ever say that." He decided that as much as he longed to see the softer sides of Jessica, he couldn't take her like that. Not that vulnerable. Not that downtrodden. Not in pain. He couldn't bear to see her in so much pain physically and emotionally.

"It's okay, Harvey, really. I probably won't be making it in tomorrow, and I'm going to need you to keep things on track. You need your rest, I know you've been pulling all-nighters the past couple of days, and you should really just go home and…" she begin rambling. Her voice slurring in and out was the evidence that she was on pain meds.

She was trying to get rid of him and he couldn't quite figure out why. It had to be something beyond her being embarrassed. There had to be more to her pushing him away.

"Jess," his voice was soft as he reached out and guided her face until she faced him. "Why didn't you tell me I was your emergency contact?"

She jerked her face out of his grasp and he let her, hoping that if he gave her some space she'd be honest with him. "It's a formality, Harvey. Not a marriage proposal. Relax."

It was the first time either of them resorted to their attempts at banter and jokes since he stepped into the room. It was the first time he wasn't willing to go along with it. He glared at her, the heat of his gaze undoubtedly burning into her and making her uncomfortable. He was almost grateful for whatever drugs she was on making her so susceptible to his persuasion. So fragile. Though he was not at ease watching a Jessica Pearson who didn't have it in her to put up a fight. Even for the little things.

"I didn't plan on ever being in a position where it was necessary for them to contact you," she said simply.

"You're a powerful woman, honey, but you can't control everything," he sighed. He was willing to wait this one out, however long it took. He noticed her tense at the term of endearment he so casually tossed out there, and instead of being amused at making her uncomfortable he felt sad. He absentmindedly stroked her hand, the soft skin between her thumb and index finger, before moving up to massage her knuckles.

"You're not…" his voice broke off and only then did he realize that what he was about to say was more for him than it probably was for her. "You're not invincible, Jess."

"It's embarrassing." She muttered bitterly. She blinked profusely and he had to hold his breath, because once again she was on the verge of tears. It was something he wasn't familiar with ever seeing and the mere thought of it broke his heart.

"Jess-"he started.

"You're all I have." She spat out. Her voice was accusatory and she tugged, trying to yank her hand out of his but he wouldn't let her.

He was silent as he tried to process why that would be a negative thing.

"My entire life is a law firm. Family isn't really family. Friends aren't really friends. I have a sister who is a doctor and I didn't even bother considering her. What does that say about me?" her voice cracked as dark pools swimming with unshed tears met his.

"I put you down, because you're the closest person I have. I didn't tell you because I hate that you're the closest person I have.

"I spend every single day playing hallway monitor to office antics, playing principal, playing…mom and maybe that wouldn't be quite as bad if I knew it actually made a difference, but it doesn't. I work at an office with people who don't respect me. Fear me, maybe, but don't respect me. I spend every single day cleaning up messes and being dragged into antics I never willingly would have ever chose to partake in, only to have my involvement in said antics used against me by the very same people I call myself looking out and covering for. I'm there to ask favors from, I'm there to say no, only to have it ignored. I'm there to be disregarded, and it's so damn tiring. I put everything into a place that doesn't always give me anything back, so when I have to admit to anyone, that you are my emergency contact…it just…"

"Jess, no, no…" he squeezed her hand, trying to find the right words to say. The best way to respond. "That's not true…it's-"

"My emergency contact is my _work_ partner. The man who once betrayed me. The person who almost kicked me out of my own firm. The man who ignores me and disregards me more often than he simply does what I ask him to do. The man who allows his associate and protégé to do the exact same. It's embarrassing for me, to think about the fact that I don't have anyone else, all I have is you."

He felt like he had been punched in the chest. His own eyes wet with tears he wouldn't let fall. "That's not how it is, Jessica. That's not...it isn't."

"It's not accusations I'm hurling at you, Harvey. Its observations. It's me stating my truth. I know you respect me. The fact of the matter is you also take me for granted too. In your world with your revolving door of people, I tend to be an afterthought. After Donna. After Mike. After whatever the latest bullshit is with Louis.

"It's not really about you, it's just I finally decided to take a moment. Take a breath and clear my head, and not think about the shitstorm that is everyone else's bullshit all the time and I get plowed by a drunk driver and end up here. It's like the universe reminding me once again that I can never be first…" she rambled on and it was clear that even though she was talking to him she wasn't really talking to him. It was as if she all the unfiltered thoughts she ever had come tumbling out against her volition and she hadn't quite caught on to it yet. She was so open and honest and he wasn't sure if she knew that she was being that way. It made the moment intimate and yet, like a violation of her privacy at the same time.

"Why can't I ever be first?" she whispered softly. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly but it didn't stop the tears from falling.

He had never heard her voice crack in such a way that she sounded like a child. He had never seen her openly cry either. The mere sight of it caused a few frustrated tears to fall from his eyes too. He was horrified that she had felt like this so long and he hadn't really noticed. He was angry with himself for the part he unknowingly played in her feeling so miserable. He was frustrated that he couldn't figure out how he could fix it.

A long moment passed before she gently extracted her hand from his and used it to wipe her face. She sniffled as quietly as she could manage and refused to make eye contact with him. She was clearly back to being a bit more lucid and conscious and was mortified over her emotional display. He knew what that felt like. He knew how it felt to be such an emotional person, but to rein it in so much so, that a mere crack in the exterior felt like the ultimate weakness.

"I'm fine, Harvey," she said in an even voice, not quite meeting his eyes. "Really, you can go home now."

"I'm not," he declared.

He ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly messing it up even further before dragging it over his face. He wanted to give her something, something that neither of them did, but he was beginning to realize they needed to do more. Be honest. Not just about work related bullshit and calling each other out. They did that just fine. But they never were open or honest about how much they valued each other, not nearly enough, and he knew firsthand the damage that could be done when a person wasn't aware of how valued they really were. He had the Darby takeover situation to prove it.

He grabbed her hand in both of his and held it for a long while. His eyes never breaking away from hers. He could sense her discomfort, her embarrassment, and her curiosity radiating from her. He could feel the warmth from her hand, the soft smooth skin beneath the bandage. For such a powerful woman, he never realized how delicate she was. He brought her knuckles to his lips and gently pressed a kiss to them, fascinated with the wonder in her eyes at the action of simply being handled so gently, and by him of all people.

"I thought…" he inwardly cringed at how choked up his voice was, but he hoped that if she noticed it at all she'd know just how sincere he was being. "I thought I _lost_ you.

"You were the one who called me out on my abandonment issues," he chuckled at little as his eyes bore into hers, and he could tell by the crinkle around her eyes that she was biting back a smile of her own. "I need you to know that it isn't just about Donna or Mike…" he nodded jerkily as his grip on her hand tightened. He pressed his lips to her hand again before pulling it towards his heart. The combination of their hands entwined rose and fell with each breath he took.

"Jess, if I lost you..." he cleared his throat and blinked a few times, willing himself not to let himself go. "If I lost you," he tried again, his voice clearer. "I don't know what I would do. I need you to know that. I couldn't…I couldn't handle it."

It was the truth. Donna's departure left him in a tailspin. The flair up of anxiety attacks was something he never thought he could be capable of. Mike not being in his life left him a less than desirable person to be around. He took to the kid rather quickly and if he ever lost him again, he isn't sure what he'd do with himself, but the mere idea of losing Jessica. If he lost Jessica too, he ran the risk of being dramatic, because he was pretty sure he might actually die. His relationship with Donna was every bit as complicated as a damn Facebook status, and his bond with Mike was deeper than the one he had with his real brother. Jessica, Jessica was the closest thing he had to a constant in his life. He was not a fan of change, never had been and most likely never will be no matter what miracle his therapist could pull off. For fifteen years no matter what around him changed, he always had Jessica. She was his anchor. She was his solace. He knew he took her for granted, but if he woke up one day and she wasn't in his life, he's not sure who he'd be anymore. He found that terrifying and therefore it made it that much easier for him to never address just how important she was to him. Because there was something inexplicably daunting about discovering that if he lost that one person in his life, he wasn't sure if he'd know who he was anymore. It made them connected, linked in a way that went beyond friendship, love, lust, or family. It made their bond ethereal. It made their connection something that truly scared the shit out of him, and the only thing that scared him more than acknowledging it, was the thought of permanently losing it.

He swallowed thickly. "You scared the shit out of me," he repeated his words from earlier. He tried to smile but it was strained. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly. "I'm sorry that you're embarrassed, and I'm sorry that I don't always, um..." he sighed as he dug deep and tried to stay in the rare moment of honesty and openness. "I'm sorry that I don't always show you how much I appreciate you, but I'm not sorry that you have me, or that I have you. Because we both know, I always show up when it counts."

She nodded her head. Her eyes focused solely on their intertwined fingers resting on his chest rather than facing the intensity in his eyes. A tear escaped hers, slowly running across her bruised cheek until he reached out to gently wipe it away.

"You're my best friend Jessica," he said softly, watching her face curiously. "You're my family," he said firmly. "You know I love you, right?"

He left it out there in the air, while he willed himself to not take it as another sign of rejection if she chose not to acknowledge it. He didn't tell people that often. He spent too many times in his younger years, curled up in the fetal position wondering why his mother never said it back. He spent his teenage years questioning whether or not it was sincere when girls whispered it in his ear. After all, after years of not saying it, it was the last thing his mother said to him and then she left. It was not something he chose to say often. He was a man of action more so than words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. He was grateful that Jessica was one of the few people who truly understood that.

She seemed surprised, genuinely taken aback by the expression and he could tell from the look in her eyes that she understood the magnitude of him saying it. Her expression softened. It put them in a rare even playing field of vulnerability. He gave her that to make her more comfortable. He gave her vulnerable, which he often mistook as weakness, risking parts of himself he didn't willingly choose to risk just to extend an unspoken olive branch and acknowledge what she previously said.

"I know," she responded after a bit. "Same, kid." She paused for a bit, and pulled her hand from his, before clearing her throat. "Love you too."

She gave him a tiny smile, but the action caused her to wince, and rub at the split in her lip. Her hand ran along the side of her face, her fingers traced over the bruising on her cheek and around her black eye.

"I probably look like shit," she sighed.

"Nah," he chuckled. His hand brushed back stray strands of hair that fell into her eyes. "You look beautiful. As usual. Like a goddamn freak of nature." He smiled down at her before kissing her forehead softly. Her eyes were still closed when he pulled away.

"You know if you ever tell anyone we had this conversation, I'll deny it," he smirked down at her, as her eyes fluttered open again and she sighed.

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't," she snorted, followed by a moan.

"What do you say we get you out of this shithole?" He already begin forming the series of rants and threats it would take to check Jessica out, but he'd be damned if he let her stay there.

"Harvey…" she groaned, her voice holding its usual warning and admonishment.

"I'll take you home and promise not to call your sister if you let me crash on your couch and head into the office late?"

"But you won't call my sister anyways, because she hates you…"Jessica countered with a small grin.

"True, which is weird, I usually do well with sisters…" his voice trailed off and he raised a brow at her, pleased with the double connotation that he didn't even inflict on purpose. His smirk turned to a frown of concern when Jessica went from laughing at him to wincing again.

"I'll make you breakfast and bring you lunch too," he offered.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan." She shifted in the bed, until she swung her long legs over and her feet met the ground.

"I knew it, you only made me your person because of my world famous omelets," he joked lightly, as he helped her stand up and wrapped his hoodie around her.

"Damn, you caught me," she muttered back, out of breath from all the movement.

"Jess…" he helped her slide her pants up underneath the hospital gown she was wearing, and his hands lightly rested around her waist when he was done. "Are you good?" He mentally kicked himself for falling so quickly back into the pattern of not asking her what he truly wanted to, but secretly hoping that she understood him anyway.

She stared into his eyes for minutes that felt like hours before carefully wrapping her arm around his waist and using him for support. "Yeah Harvey," she said quietly as they slowly made it out of the tiny room. "We're good."

~o~


End file.
